


Les Misérapills

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pharmacy, Gen, apparently i'm the first person to use that tag. does that surprise anyone, this is silly and not serious and probably not worth your time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1817152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm pretty happy with how this turned out so I'm posting it here?? Basically the result of goofing around on tumblr and being waaaay too invested in my job.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Les Misérapills

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty happy with how this turned out so I'm posting it here?? Basically the result of goofing around on tumblr and being waaaay too invested in my job.

The bottle of Wellbutrin in Javert’s hand is loud as he slams it against the counter. “No, I’m not going to advance a few days of the patient’s hydromorph,” he says, and his voice is quavering as though it is hard to keep from shouting, “she’ll have to hold off until next week.”

"Please," replies Valjean, trying to keep his voice low so the woman at the counter doesn’t hear. "She’s all out, but she doesn’t get paid until next week."

Javert sighs loudly. “Even if I believed that,” Javert says, throwing a quick glance toward the woman at the cash register that told Valjean he did  _not_  believe her, “it’s illegal. It’s a narcotic. You know this, Valjean.”

"She needs it," Valjean says, his voice still quiet.

Javert tangles his hands in his hair, then lets them fall dramatically to his side. “Of course! But she needs it. Why not just give her the whole prescription? At no cost! Throw in some Ritalin while we’re at it!” He scoffs. “ _She needs it._ Christ, Valjean.”

Valjean’s fists are balled at his sides. “What is she supposed to do?”

"Tylenol’s cheap," Javert quips, before turning back to the bottle of Wellbutrin in his hand and comparing it against the small vial of pills on the counter.

Valjean is about to leave, to walk back to the woman at the counter and tell her there’s nothing he can do, when Combeferre speaks up.

"Split the prescription," he says, quiet and calm, walking over toward Valjean and Javert. "Divide it up into two, so she can have a few days now, and the rest next week. Waive the dispensing fee, but charge her for the pills. A few days’ worth shouldn’t be too expensive. She can pay the dispensing fee next time."

Javert looks at him.

"Look, it’s not perfect, but at least that way she gets what she needs right now, and we’re not taking a hit financially. And our bases are covered, legally," he says, emphasizing the word  _legally._

"Yes, of course," Javert mutters. "Why not double our work for this — this addict?"

"She’s not an addict," Valjean says.

"There shouldn’t be a cost attached to prescriptions anyway," Combeferre says offhandedly.

Javert sighs loudly. “Fine. Give the woman her damn hydromorph. But Valjean, you’re taking the time to sort everything out on the computer, and you’re filling the next one for her.”

"Yes, of course, thank you," Valjean stammers as he tears open the prescription bag he had been holding into his hand. He dumps the bottle onto a tray and counts out nine capsules to put in a separate vial. He holds the vial up to Combeferre, who nods.

Valjean walks back to the register to see the patient standing here, her hands fisted in her short blonde hair. “We’re giving you a few days’ worth and waiving the dispensing fee,” he explains. “It’s going to cost you the same, and there’s a bit of a cost right now, but at least you’ll get through until next week,” he says.

The patient nods and reaches into her pocket, counting out her change on the counter.

A few feet behind them, Combeferre and Javert are leaning against the counter.

"Shit like this," Javert mumbles. "I don’t know why I hired him. He wants us to advance prescriptions at the drop of a hat. I’ve seen him  _pay_ for kids’ azithromycin prescriptions, seemingly unaware that half the kids aren’t even sick. But of course! They need their medication! I don’t know what he wants. Our markup is low, our fee is the lowest around — because  _he_  wouldn’t shut up about it, I might add — and we even add that stupid flavouring shit to some of the suspensions.” Javert sighs again, loudly. “Fucking gourmet amoxicillin in here. What could be better!”

"To be free," Combeferre adds quietly.


End file.
